Leverage
by saoi
Summary: Kella knows why she is in the darkness her father's job put her there. In the dank basment of the Yakavetta's Kella might just pay the ultimate price for being a McCourt. this is my first fan fic please review
1. Chapter 1

Writers Note: I don't own this movie or its characters.

At first I thought it was all in my mind. Hours in the darkness do that to a person. Movement, light, voices had all become so foreign to me that when the glass shattered it took me a while to register. My head cocked to the side a bit; listening. Glass crunched under thick boots. In the black I couldn't make out anything. Cold sweat slid between my shoulder blades running the track of my spine, heart beat a furious primal rhythm, eyes desperately raked the deep ether. Deep. That was the only way to describe it. Dank, infected, brutal, penetrating. I could feel the _dead._ The basement was seething with the blood of the men and women that had met their maker. After a week of being there I became a part of it. It was in my lungs, hair, clothes, under my nails. I crouched on a thin mattress spattered brown with dried blood. I could feel the indent where other people had laid, once they had been me. Now where were they?

Where was everyone? It amazed me how my world, which had once been so vast, was now reduced to a bare cement room. I was a student for goodness sake's; a twenty-two year student with a penchant for classic Hollywood cinema and the Book of Revelations. I was too young; too guiltless. I soon found that I was not a person. I was leverage and leverage didn't speak, or cry out, or beg, or pray, or fight, or leave. Leverage sat still, spoke when was spoken to, and paid their family's debt in blood when the time came.

The only people I had contact with were the few nameless minions who brought me my water and helped me use the restroom. Nothing more. Being alone, I tried to tell myself how I was strong; tried to remember things that made me happy and willful. I used my nails to dig dents into my arms so I could keep track of the days I figured I had been there.

The room had one window in it. It was a thin slat, painted black. Not all the paint was thick and in the day I perceived the paint was lighter in some places. I think. Now, looking back I don't know what was real and what I dreamed. Though I thought I could have fit through it if it wasn't so high up and my hands and feet hadn't been bound. It's easy to think of all the things you could do "if". After a few days I stopped entertaining those fantasies. After a few days they came for me.


	2. Chapter 2

Writers Note: Right, this chapter contains some swearing and short violence so, you have been warned. Also, thanks for reading I promise the brothers are going to be in the story so please don't loose heart. Review if you can, it would mean a lot.

"Get up."

A barrel-chested man in a tacky aqua and green suit lifted me to my feet. The suit I remember well because it reminded me of a pair of pants my grandfather used to wear; he was buried in them. I almost laughed at the outfit, almost cried.

My feet lightly grazed the floor as he essentially carried me to a table two other men had just brought in. A balding man with ringed fingers entered the room. I knew him. I was set down on the table and made to face the bejeweled man; held on either side by two thick subordinates.

"Your family must missing you by now? You think?"

The man's voice sounded like jeans moving against each other; annoying when you concentrate on it. I was at that level; the words and meaning were secondary to the sound which after days of silence I had become unaccustomed to.

"You think? They must know you are gone?"

Everything sounded like a question, so I thought I would respond similarly.

"Yes?"

"Your family made a mistake taking up here, yes? They think that they can just come into a new place and push anybody out?

"I-"

He leaned.

"Don't speak. You have nothing to say. You are not part of the business; so you can have nothing to say."

A thick accent masked his words.

"But I-"

A cool ringed finger pressed against my cracked lips, silencing me.

"It is regretful that this is the way things must be."

My eyes burned from the glaring light and terror. I wanted to speak; to save myself; reason; plead; I didn't want to die without words; what would go on my tombstone?

He turned his back on me.

"Wait, please don't-"

His eyes locked into mine and rich cigar fumes emanated from his elegant white Italian suite.

"There is nothing to say. What's done is done."

He turned his back again and nodded to a short bespectacled man who had stood motionless in the shadows near the door. He came forward, a black leather bag in hand.

"Where is it?"

The man wearing my grandfather's suit lifted my shirt sleeve; revealing my family crest. Every member of the McCourt family got a tattoo of the family crest on their eighteenth birthday with their initials at the bottom. Dad told me to look at it and remember who I was. Remember I was a McCourt and nobody would fuck with me. Ah, the irony.

"Restrain her."

"What? No! Fuck-!"

I twisted and thrashed but to no avail; days with only water had weakened me and strong hands showed no signs of tiring. They pushed me face down on the table and stretched out my right arm over my head. The big man in my dead grandfather's suit grabbed my left arm and wretched it behind my back. An animal sob ripped through me. Then he took out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed my left writs to my right ankle. In the awkward pose I was completely immobile. Spit and blood pooled on the table below my lips. I shook from fear and exhaustion, but mostly from rage. I felt every cut of the graceful scalpel. They were removing a part of me. It wasn't just tinted skin. It was me. Crimson slicked the table and filled my sense with a warm sweet smell.

"Fuck you all! Fuck you! God damn you son's o' bitches!"

The words felt good; they were all I had to fight with. A swift backhand melted my words into muffled cries.

The "doctor" left after the bandages were secured, but the other two stayed.

I watched them leave five minutes or so later through my one open eye. Bruises bloomed all over me that night and I added my blood to that thin mattress.


End file.
